Move It, Football Head
by perfectq
Summary: It's been many years since Helga has thought about her life before college. Now, she's grown up and a detective for the NYPD. Everything is going well until she finds someone she used to know is the current victim of a crime. Rated M for language, violence


Helga Geraldine Pataki. Could my parents have picked a more dreadful name? Rhonda had once told me that my name fit me well because of how unattractive I was. So, naturally, I punched her in the face; my tough attitude was what eventually put me into the police force.

People often wondered if I was a shrew because of my parents. My mother was an alcoholic and my father a workaholic. I guess addiction runs in my family. I was lucky if I ever came home to someone in the house after Olga, my "perfect" sister, went off and attended Wellington University in New Zealand. My parents' gave her all of the attention and love they could spare; I was merely a mistake. I don't blame them, though. Blame is a wasted game. I am who I chose to be and it made me who I am. I have no regrets.

I refused treat my child the way I was treated. "Momma," my little girl said as she stumbled into the room. At two years old she hadn't mastered walking, it was more like waddling.

"Yes, my love," I said, softening at the sound of her small, innocent voice. She had that effect on me.

"Can I has mo'?" she asked, eyes wide, in her own broken language. I was mixing brownie batter and she sat beside me, holding the once batter filled beater.

"No baby. You've had enough, I don't want you to get a tummy ache," I put down the beater and walked over to the sink to wash my hands. "Go put your shoes on, Elsa." Elsa hopped down from the stool and ran to find her shoes.

"Gammy coming?" she asked as she returned with a pair of ballet shoes. I chuckled softly and nodded.

"I have to go to work," her smile faded to a frown and looked up at me, "I have to put the bad guys away" I added, walking over to her and putting a large pink bow in her hair, just like I had worn in my blonde locks when I was young.

As I finished putting on her shoe of choice I heard my mother's familiar voice call through the house, "Helga, Elsa?"

At lease she sounded sober. "We're back here, ma." My mother's footsteps grew closer and she smiled.

"There are my girls," she hugged and kissed Elsa before giving me an awkward side hug. We still hadn't mastered the whole "hugging" thing.

After my mother had taken Elsa to her house where I would pick her up later, my mind went back to the last day I saw the father of my beautiful little girl.

"I would like to call Mr. Wolfgang Caldwell to the stand," my lawyer said as he stood in front of the judge, peering over at the jury. I felt a lump form in my throat and quickly swallowed it. I'd be damned if I let him see how badly he hurt me, though, and tried to keep a passive look on my face. Wolfgang made his way to the stand and before he sat down he swore to "tell the truth and nothing but the truth" so help him God.

"Mr. Caldwell, where were you on the night of Saturday October 15, 2011?" my lawyer began.

"I was at a college party…" I didn't hear the rest. My thoughts went back to that night…

It was the first party I'd actually been invited to at college, even thought it was my senior year. I wasn't exactly popular, but my sister had talked some kids into allowing me to attend a party with her. Of course, I didn't realize this at the time. I brushed my blonde hair and curled it, plucked my eyebrow, and put a big of make-up on before throwing on a pink dress that accentuated the figure I preferred to keep hidden. I guess I should point out that Olga helped me get ready in the small apartment I shared with Phoebe, my best friend since grade school.

Originally I didn't think I would enjoy an NYU party, but I had to admit for a while there I was having fun. People kept handing me drinks and, to be hones, I didn't even know I was getting drunk. I had sworn off alcohol growing up (because I saw all the pain my mother inflicted upon us all due to her addiction). So, I had my first and last drink of alcohol on that day.

"Hey there! Helga is it?" a melodic voice whispered in my ear. I'd heard the voice before and when I turned I recognized the oaf that stood only inches from me.

"Wolfgang," I stated simply. I wanted nothing to do with him. I had known him well enough to know he had not changed since grade school.

"I hoped you'd remember me. I'm a hard guy to forget, huh?" the alcohol was potent on his breath and he took a step closer to me, putting his hands on the wall behind me, trapping me. I tried to move past him, but he pinned me to the wall. I knew, at that point, I was in danger. Real danger.

"Get the fuck out of my way," I growled, using all of the strength I could muster to push him away, but he didn't move at all. He was planted to the floor and I couldn't move him. The night only got worse from there.  
The next thing I remembered was waking up in a hospital with Olga and Phoebe by my bed. "Oh my dearest little sis, I'm so sorry," Olga blubbered.

"So you made no unwanted advances on the defendant," my lawyer questioned motioning to me.

Wolfgang looked straight into my eyes and shook his head. "I did not."  
"So, there is no way you are the father of the defendants two year old child?"

"There is no way." Anger bubbled within me and it took every ounce of my being not to throttle him. He had raped me! He was the reason I was raising my daughter without any help. I loved Elsa, but I couldn't afford to take care of her. Tears formed in my eyes…

The loud, high pitched ringing of my phone threw me out of my trance and I peered down to see the caller ID. "Pataki," I said into the phone.

"Helga," my partner, Drew Gable, spoke, cutting me off, "you need to get here immediately, we got a call and have to go to Brooklyn. The body of a socialite was found."

"Is that all you know?' I countered.

"Well, it's in your old neighborhood," my mouth went dry and I was unable to speak. I hung up and went to the station in a zombie-like trance. All I could think of was the list of people I knew from my old neighborhood. No one had more money than Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. She was New York's most eligible socialite. Before I could comprehend what was happening, tears were stinging my eyes. Why was I crying? I hated Rhonda.

I drove straight to the address, and took a deep breath before getting out of the car. In the two years I'd been a detective, I never ran into anyone I had known. I thanked God for it. The crime scene tape surround the large townhouse and, after showing my badge;, I made my way in and Gable met me at the front door. "Unknown 25 year old female", shit, "dark hair" fuck, "blow to the head, possible rape." My heart sunk and I found it hard to swallow.

"Rhonda Wellington Lloyd," I said, unaware that I had interrupted Gable.

"You knew her," it wasn't a question.

I quickly wiped away the tears from my eyes and nodded, "From grade school." He nodded but chose not to say a word as I put on a glove and bent down to examine the body. I lifted her head slightly and saw the gaping wound on the other side. "Do we have any possible murder weapons?"

Gable nodded, "We have a few possibilities. The medical examiner doesn't know for sure, but they think it was a bat or some other blunt object. I personally think it's a smaller object.," he said motioning for me to follow. We walked deeper into the room of purples of reds. Gable stopped by a shelf and pointed out a small circle surrounded by dust. . "There was something here. Nothing else is missing in the house, so whatever was here was definitely used to kill her or was taken afterward."

Rhonda's parents owned the home before they moved to the Hamptons and gave it to their only child. So, they would without a doubt know what was in that spot. But first, Gable and I had to break the news to them.

There was a unit sent out to tell the Lloyd's about their daughter's unfortunately death. We were 99% sure they didn't kill her, but we had to investigate the possibility. I hadn't seen the couple since I graduated high school seven years ago and I never thought I would see them again.

"Helga? Helga Pataki?" Brooke Lloyd said squinting at me as I stood on the front step of the Lloyd house beside Gable.

"Detective Pataki," Buckley said ignoring his wife, "What happened to our baby girl?" I immediately thought of my little girl at home and had to fight tears again.

"I'm sorry for your loss. Although Rhonda and I were not very close she was still a good person. She didn't deserve this." I said the last part more to myself than to them. "I hate to ask you this," and I really did, "but where were you this morning around four?"

I thought Brooke was going to jump over the table and strangle me, but her husband's hand on her arm calmed her slightly, "We were at Roanoke Vineyards with my in laws," he said taking his wife's hand.

"Alright. We will have to look into that, protocol," I said. The last thing I wanted was to step on their toes. I knew they had a close relationship with their daughter and we may need them later on. "Now if you don't mind, we would like to know all of the people Rhonda socialized with. Friends, boyfriends, any who might know anything about what happened." I slid a pad of yellow legal paper and a pen across the table and left the room without another word. Gable stayed in the room with them, talking them through the process and occasionally asking about the names on the list.

Meanwhile, I made my way into the viewing room to watch them in the interrogation room. After watching them make their way through the list, Brook froze. "Gracious," she mumbled pointing to a name on the list and peering over at her husband.

He answered with a shake of the head, "No, it couldn't be," he said.

Gable peered at the name Brooke pointed to, "Arnold Shortman? Who's is that?"

The lump in my throat grew and I felt as if it were suffocating me. I shook my head. What could Arnold have to do with Rhonda's murder?" she whispered to herself.

Before I could process anything else, I rushed to the interrogation room and pushed the door open, "Are you crazy? Arnold would never hurt anyone!"

Brooke and Buckley stared at me for a moment, "Helga the boy you one knew, he's not the same young man as he is now."

Gable gently pushed me to the door and out of the room, "You can't be in here. you are too close to this case."

I knew he was right, so I stifled my thoughts and returned to the viewing room. I wasn't sure if I wanted to hear what they would had to say, but I knew I had to.

"Go on," Gable said as he sat across from the Lloyds.

"Arnold and Rhonda dated for a short time and Arnold fell in love with her. " Well that didn't seem right. Arnold and Rhonda? She was stuck up and snobby and Arnold wasn't one to enjoy being around people like her. He always got along with her in school, but I just couldn't see them together. And there was no way Arnold would fall in love with her. "When she broke his heart to pursue a modeling career he was furious."

"How did you know he was furious?"

"Rhonda would call us in tears saying that Arnold had been peering through her windows." No. No, this was bullshit. "He would stalk and threaten her constantly."

"Threaten her how? What would he say?"

"He would tell her he was going to kill her if she really left him."

"Was that all?"

"That was all Rhonda told us."

"Why did Rhonda never report this?" Because it didn't happen.

"She didn't want Arnold to be in trouble for love her." Bullshit.

This is ridiculous! This was all hearsay. No one could prove this in any way. "Well ma'am," Gable finally said after a long silence, "I'm afraid without concrete proof we can only brim him in for questioning. If you know of any proof, please let us know," he said handing them his card.

They nodded and left quickly with tears in their eyes and heavy hearts. I walked into the room when they left hoping they didn't see me, "Gable, you have to know that Rhonda was lying."

He shrugged and picked up the list of names. Most were ones I didn't recognize, probably for the best. "Anything?" he asked.

"I know a few of them, I said as I rattled off the names while pointing to them, "Harold Berman, Sid Schum, Stinky Peterson, Eugene Horowitz, Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, Lila Sawyer, Nadine Robinson," I perused the rest of the list and knew no other besides Arnold.

Gable had gathered a few other people to work the case, and they stood outside of the interrogation room, waiting. "Gather these people," I said thrusting the list at the person nearest to me as I left. I tried to escape quickly but Gable caught me as I frantically pushed the "First floor" button of the elevator. He put his arm in the way to stop the elevator and we stood in silence until the door closed. "You're too close to this, Helga," he spoke in a soft, demeaning voice, "we can handle this."

I let out a harsh laugh, harsher than I intended and looked over at him. "Fuck you. This is someone I know and I want to find her killer. We may not have gotten along, but she was still a person in my life. I'm working this case." Once I had made up my mind there was no changing it and he knew that. We rode in silence and muttered a goodbye as we parted ways.  
I dug frantically through my many pockets for my keys and unlocked the car. I did my sully check of the back seat and climbed in the driver's side. My parents' house was a short drive from the station and I did it record time. Even though I knew Elsa was safe, I still worried… all of the time.

As I parallel parked in front of their house and made my way to the door, my mind raced. I couldn't stop thinking about Rhonda. Who hated her so much they would wish her dead. She wasn't the nicest person in the world, but I can't imagine someone wanting to kill her. She had a big heart and even if she didn't like you, she would never let you know… not to your face anyway.

I opened the door and let myself into my parents' house. It was the same as the day I left all of those years ago. Wine bottles and Elsa's toys littered the floor. I kicked an empty Merlot bottle and a Barbie doll out of my way and called out to my daughter. "Elsa, honey, where are you?" Elsa came running up to me and I lifted her into the air and spun her. "How was your day?" I asked, placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Gammy and I played Candyland," she smiled slightly, "I winned." I giggled and hugged her tightly.

"How was your day, dear?" my mother asked walking into the room with an apron on and dish towel in her hands.

"It was tough. We have a case regarding someone I used to go to school with," she knew I couldn't tell her about my cases and when I gave her information it was all I could.

"Oh I'm sorry, Helga. Would you like some wine?"

"Mother, it's 4 o'clock in the afternoon," I paused and looked down at Elsa playing on the floor, "why don't you wait until dinner?" I'd been trying to steer my mother clear of alcohol, but to my dismay it wasn't working out.

There was a moment of silence until I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I peered at the caller ID and didn't recognize the number. "Hello?"

"Helga?!" I recognized the voice immediately, even though it was frantic.

"Arnold?"

"Helga, help me. Please. They think I killed Rhonda! I didn't, I swear I didn't. Oh, God," he began hyperventilating and I found myself trying to calm down before I spoke.

"Alright, calm down. Who is they?"

"Rhonda's friends and family."

"Well all signs are pointing to you right now." I couldn't lie to him.

"When Rhonda cheated on me I was upset and said some things I probably shouldn't have. It was the heat of the moment. Helga, can you meet me somewhere? You are the only one I can trust. I need your help."

"Arnold, I'm on my way home. Meet me at my place." I gave him the address and told my mother we had to leave, grabbed Elsa and headed home.

Arnold was waiting on my front step when we got home, and he hadn't changed in all of the right ways. His face was still shaped really oddly, and his eyes shined a bright blue, but the similarities ended there. He had really grown up, and it was doing him well.


End file.
